carve you out, start today
by possibilist
Summary: 'And then Quinn starts dancing. Santana watches with a smile as Quinn saunters over to Rachel and takes her hands, and Rachel blushes shyly before joining Quinn.' Quinntana friendship drabble, from freshman year to college. Faberry/Brittana romance.


summary: 'And then Quinn starts dancing. Santana watches with a smile as Quinn saunters over to Rachel and takes her hands, and Rachel blushes shyly before joining Quinn.' Quinntana friendship drabble, from freshman year to college. Faberry/Brittana romance.

an (1): bonjour, friends! so the other day i wrote a fic (in our bedroom after the war) with a little snippet of quinntana friendship in it, and i loved it, so this fic is entirely quinntana friendship. it's faberry for sure though (as well as side brittana, because they're adorbs). so yeah, it's really mostly about quinn. anyway, writing from santana's pov is new for me, so your reviews will be especially helpful and wonderful. thank you so so much in advance :) xx

an (2): all of the headers here are taken from sleigh bells' epic debut album _treats_. while "rill rill" may be the sickest track ever, it's distracting. so listen to it, but if you want something nice in the background while reading, i'd recommend "bookworm" by margot and the nuclear so and so's. beautiful.

* * *

carve you out, start today

.

(_dear heart, don't stop fighting. you gotta march_)

...

one. _all the kids, all the kids these days, you can do your best today_

.

It's simultaneously perfectly easy and extremely hard for Santana to hate Quinn. Their freshman year is filled with snotty remarks and constant aggravation, but one day in November, after a particularly tough practice, where the spotters had dropped Quinn, Santana sees her in the locker room, painfully trying to slip on a pair of sweatpants and a sweatshirt.

Quinn's struggling to even bend over far enough to get the pants around her ankles, even when she's sitting down, her pale face flushed and her ponytail disheveled. Something in Santana shifts then, and Brittany's beside her in an instant. It's the warmth of Brittany's breath—and it always has been, since kindergarten—that makes Santana walk over to Quinn without a word and kneel in front of her, putting her hands on Quinn's.

Quinn flinches and shuts her eyes, like she's expecting some form of physical punishment.

"Jesus," Santana says, pulling up Quinn's sweats gently. "I won't hurt you."

"Thanks," Quinn mumbles, staring down at her hands.

Brittany smiles at Santana and sits down next to Quinn.

"If you're hurt, you should really tell Coach," Brittany tells her gently.

Quinn looks like she's about to cry, and Santana watches in some sort of admiration when she steels herself and doesn't. "I'm fine."

Santana sits on Quinn's other side, hesitant to touch her. "If you don't want to tell her, my dad's a doctor. He could look and—uh, make sure everything's okay."

Quinn's quiet—Santana has noticed that Quinn's always quiet, really, always reading—but she nods a little. "That sounds good."

Santana smiles at Brittany's grin. "And then," Brittany says, "we'll have a sleepover at Santana's, and—"

Quinn stiffens, but then Santana says, "We'll kill you in your sleep."

Hazel eyes grow large before Quinn realizes it's a joke, and Santana grins when Quinn starts laughing.

Santana stands and then Brittany does too, and they help Quinn limp out to Santana's mom, who's waiting in the car.

"This is our friend Quinn," Santana introduces, and the words from her mouth cause Brittany to squeeze her hand and Quinn to close her eyes.

And they make Santana smile, because they're true.

...

two. _i hear the old soul coming out of my radio_

.

Santana doesn't pressure Quinn. Not really, anyway, but the summer after New York, when they first come home, their first week off, she and Brittany and Quinn kiss.

A lot.

There's something about Quinn's that's magnetizing; it's not necessarily romantic, but Santana finds herself drawn to Quinn's old Hollywood glamour and her love of vinyl and the way she talked, slow and deliberate, with SAT vocabulary.

So when Santana has the house to herself, she and Quinn are quickly on the bed. Brittany's always been willing to go all the way, but for Quinn it means different things. It means babies and getting kicked out and being ostracized and having her heart completely fucking broken. So even though Santana could never do any of those things to Quinn, not really, when Quinn shakes her head no, Santana does her best to understand.

But then Quinn stops returning Santana's texts and voicemails, after that day in Santana's room when Brittany's out of town with her parents, when Santana had sighed softly and nodded and unraveled her fingers from Quinn's (ridiculously hot—Santana had good taste, after all) short hair.

And then Brittany comes back, and she and Santana have never really _needed _Quinn, so Santana pretends to forget.

.

When school starts, and Santana sees this Quinn who is not the Quinn she knows—the Quinn she _loves_—she hates herself.

It's not all her fault, because it's more complex than that.

But one day, Santana drives over to Quinn's huge house and sits on the porch silently with Quinn while she smokes a cigarette. She flicks it, then drawls, "It wasn't you, you know."

"I know," Santana says. (It's Rachel, it's _always _been Rachel, and it never needs to be spoken about, not really.)

"You and Brit seem happy."

Santana leans into Quinn's side, out of habit, and Quinn stiffens before relaxing a little, wrapping her arm around Santana's shoulder. Quinn smells like cigarettes and whiskey, but her clothes are washed in the same detergent, and she wears the same perfume, and she uses the same shampoo. Santana finds it comforting.

"I'd find you really attractive, the whole rebel without a cause thing," Santana says, and looks up just in time to catch Quinn hide a small smile. "But Rach seems to be into your whole church dresses, blond hair, and—"

Quinn sighs. "San."

Santana shrugs. "Whatever, Q. You know I'll never say anything."

Quinn nods. "I know. Me either."

"Thanks," Santana says.

"You too."

Santana smiles, then stands. "You really should come back to Glee. It's not half as fun to be a bitch without you."

"I'll think about it," Quinn says.

As she leaves, Santana waves. Quinn waves back. She even smiles.

...

three. _she stands up, takes the heat_

.

It's the most angry Santana's ever been. Because Quinn wasn't supposed to be this stupid. She was supposed to be the _smart _one, damn it, the smart one who got 5s on all of AP exams, the one who randomly quoted Austen, the one who got into Yale. (And—Brittany's hand clenched in hers, the white walls, the stiff chairs, Rachel's sniffling, her father's _We're not sure if she'll be able to walk again_—Santana knows it's not anger. It's _fear_.)

So the first time they get to see her—she and Brittany go immediately after Judy, and no one objects—Santana stifles all of the tears she wants to cry over Quinn's battered, broken body and instead sits down in the chair by the bed, takes Quinn's right hand and squeezes furiously hard.

Quinn groans and Santana immediately goes to slacken her grip, but then Quinn squeezes back.

.

The next weeks are spent in the same fashion: When the doctors tell Quinn (mercifully, Santana's father is there) about her spine, and she cries, Santana's unflinching, and so is, surprisingly, Brittany. And then when Quinn needs them to, the next day, they all cry together, because Quinn's a dancer and a gymnast and a runner and she's just _Quinn, _and no one needs to explain to them what it means.

.

The night before Quinn comes back to school, Santana and Brittany go over to her house. They're going to sleep over and they've promised Judy they'll help Quinn get ready in the morning—when they say this Quinn flushes with embarrassment, but Santana only puts a surprisingly gentle hand to her shoulder—and they order pizza.

Quinn's still ahead on homework (which is infuriating and wonderful to Santana, all at once), so Santana copies Quinn's meticulous AP English notes while Brittany paints Quinn's nails.

Quinn's not walking yet but she will, Santana's sure, because she's gotten pretty efficient at using the wheelchair and her physical therapy has been going well, and even the fact that she's alive is (her father told her honestly when she asked) a miracle.

And because when Santana (accidentally) trips over one of Quinn's seven million books on the floor, and catapults herself straight into Quinn's legs, Quinn says, "Ow. Damn it, Santana."

But then even Brittany freezes, and Quinn smiles, and Santana starts cursing excitedly.

Because Quinn felt that. Quinn felt _her_.

That night, they all squish into Quinn's bed. Quinn's always in the middle—it's a weird metaphor, but she always kind of has been—and it reminds Santana of New York and Cheerio's practices and summer.

She waits until she's sure Brittany's asleep before she whispers, "Quinn?"

"Hmmm?"

"Finn's an ass."

Quinn laughs. "So I've gathered."

"No," Santana says. "What I mean is—Rachel's going to figure it out, too."

"Oh."

"So, you know, like, when the time—and if you feel brave enough—if you need any—"

"—Thanks, San," Quinn says.

And then Santana feels fingers lacing into hers, and Quinn squeezes.

"And you really need a haircut," Santana adds, and Quinn laughs, and Santana squeezes back.

...

four. _rachel please, please stay here with me_

_._

It's not until the summer that Quinn's really walking again, but it's not until the summer that Rachel and Finn actually break up.

Which Santana works out as fate, or serendipity, or whatever other shit you want to call it, because she throws a party near the end of June when her parents are on vacation, and then Quinn gets a little (or a lot) drunk.

And then Quinn starts dancing—_dancing, _like she used to before, all long limbs and startling grace—and Rachel's eyes follow her. Santana watches with a smile as Quinn saunters over to Rachel and takes her hands, and Rachel blushes shyly before joining Quinn.

Santana already knows—from plenty of personal experience—that Quinn's either an angry drunk or a slutty drunk (depending on who's she's with and also how happy she is), and tonight she's certainly slutty, her hands immediately finding their way all over Rachel's back, then into her hair, then skimming down her front.

It's probably not fair at all, for them to get together like _this_, but Santana really doesn't care at this point _how _they get together as long as it happens, because she's been waiting for goddamn ever.

So the next morning, when she wakes up wrapped around Brittany and then climbs out of bed, wanders down the hall, she's not surprised at all to find Quinn wrapped around Rachel in one of the guest bedrooms. They're both asleep, and Santana watches at the door for as long as she deems not creepy, because it's just _finally_.

What Santana is surprised at, though, is how happy the sight makes her.

...

five. _we never blink see, and you can see me_

.

The night before Quinn goes to Yale, Santana and Brittany (_and Rachel_) spend the night. It's kind of funny, because Santana's always thought that having Rachel there would take part of Quinn away, but it really just makes Quinn _all _there.

Quinn isn't any less snarky, and she isn't any less nerdy when she lays back against Santana's stomach while they're on the trampoline in the backyard and patiently points out constellations and tells their stories, and when Santana languidly runs her fingers through Quinn's silky hair, Quinn doesn't shrink away.

They all laugh and Santana still gets to make fun of Rachel—as long as she doesn't call her names, Quinn warned—and Rachel still rambles on about singing and Broadway and New York and when Quinn sighs and says, "_Rach_," and Rachel immediately quiets, smiling softly and kissing Quinn's lips for the briefest of moments, Santana actually thinks it's kind of _nice_.

They still order pizza, although Quinn's found a place that makes vegan ones so it's not nearly as unhealthy (and good) as the one they usually get, but it's not too bad, all things considered.

They eat raw chocolate chip cookie dough and fall asleep together in a heap in the living room while _Rear Window _plays— it's Quinn's favourite sleepover movie ever, and, even though Santana's watched it with Quinn a grand total of nineteen (and a half) times, Santana still grumbles like it's the lamest thing she's ever seen, even though she'd never admit she likes it—Quinn really does look like Grace Kelly, never mind that there's a wheelchair protagonist involved.

When they wake up in the morning, Santana finds herself wanting time to still. There haven't been enough moments with _this _Quinn, she realizes, the severity of it striking her, so much so she doesn't want to look away.

But then Quinn smiles—_smiles_—and says, "I'll see you soon."

Santana says, "I'll miss you."

Quinn hugs her tightly and says, "Thank you," and she says, "I love you."

And Santana cries. And Santana says them back.

...

six. _you are the real thing, there's another show playing in your window_

.

When Quinn comes home to Lima for Christmas break, Santana picks her up from the airport—Rachel still had a week of finals—and they drive to Santana's house. Santana follows Quinn inside and then up to her bedroom, and Quinn sits primly on Santana's bed, the same blond, straight-backed, bright-eyed Quinn as always, neat and _beautiful _in a dress, tights, oxford wedges, and a peacoat, and says, "I want to come out to my mom."

Santana smiles and sits down beside her, takes her hand, which is warm and soft and has new callouses from where Quinn had been learning to play guitar.

They talk for about an hour about how Quinn wants to say it, whether or not she wants anyone with her.

And then Santana can't help but ask, "Why?"

And then Quinn smiles this shy, breathtaking smile and says, "I want my mom to know me. I want her to get to know Rachel, too. Not as a friend. As the person I'm in love with, as the person I want to have a future with."

Santana hugs Quinn and she doesn't say anything mean, or degrading, because it's just that they've come so far.

.

Quinn sends a text the next morning: _I'm so nervous!_

Even though it's only, like, 8:21, and Brittany groans when Santana sits up in bed, Santana types, _You'll do great. And she'll love you._

She hits send, but before Quinn can reply, Santana types, _And I love you. So much. You're being so brave, and no matter what, you'll always have someone who supports you forever. I'll be here._

She hits the blue send bubble again and then Quinn's reply lights up: _Thank you. For everything. I couldn't ask for a better best friend. _And then another white bubble fills in Santana's screen: _I'll call you afterward. Maybe we can have lunch or something._

Santana puts down her phone and curls up with Brittany, and about forty-five minutes later her phone vibrates against the pillow.

When she answers, Quinn's already crying, but then she says, "She was _awesome_."

Santana starts laughing happily, and Brittany stirs and smiles when Santana mouths _It's Q_ and gives a thumbs-up.

Santana says, "Tell me everything."

* * *

references. (all from sleigh bells' _treats_.)

.

title. "riot rhythm"  
quote. "riot rhythm"  
one. "tell em"  
two. "kids"  
three. "riot rhythm"  
four. "rachel"  
five. "rill rill"  
six. "crown on the ground"


End file.
